About My Father's Death
by Sarah1281
Summary: Nathaniel's tried to ignore his morbid curiousity but he simply can't do it anymore. He needs to know if there are any truth to the rumors about how his father died and, if not, what really happened. He won't like what he hears but he needs to know.


About My Father's Death

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

Note: This is a follow-up to my one-shot 'An Unfortunate Encounter' but you don't really have to read that to get this.

It had been a week since Nathaniel Howe and Anastasia Theirin née Cousland had encountered some specter of his dead father in the Fade. Nathaniel wasn't quite convinced that it was really him and not just some Fade Spirit masquerading as the former Arl but that didn't make the conversation any less disconcerting. His father had basically confirmed every horrible thing that he had heard about him and never wanted to believe and then had the gall to blame Anastasia and her family for 'holding him back.' That wasn't the most disturbing part, however. At one point his father had made a certain accusation about the manner in which he had been killed, an accusation that had matched up with rumors that had been flying across Ferelden for months, an accusation that Anastasia hadn't actually denied. He didn't want to believe that of her – given the gruesome nature of the accusations, he _couldn't_ really believe that of her – but she hadn't denied it and so there was the horrible doubt clawing at him all the time.

He felt horrible that he was going to even ask her about it. Horrible and guilty and foolish but at least he trusted her enough to tell him the truth and to, more importantly, deny it. He found her sticking her tongue out at a book about Orlais in the Vigil's library. That was…odd but it didn't seem too far out there for his somewhat eccentric commander and he really did have more pressing concerns so he said nothing about it.

"Hey Nathaniel," Anastasia greeted him brightly. She set the book down and then used a quill to push it far away from her. "Is everything okay? You look a little upset?"

"I am, at that," Nathaniel admitted. "I really hate to ask this but I haven't been able to put it out of my mind and I don't think I'll be able to rest until I get an answer one way or another."

Anastasia's eyes flickered. "This is about your father." It wasn't a question.

Nathaniel nodded anyway. "He said that you spent hours cutting him into pieces while he still lived."

Anastasia eyed him impassively. "Do you believe that?"

Nathaniel looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't want to as it doesn't sound like you at _all_ but there have been all these rumors and you didn't even deny it…"

"Let me ask you something, Nate," Anastasia said slowly. "What would you do if Oghren came in here right now and accused you of not only being female but also pregnant with Anders' child?"

Nathaniel blinked, not quite sure what such a ludicrous question had to do with anything. Still, she presumably had some point here and so, grudgingly, he replied, "I would not even dignify that with a response."

"And should I take that as a tacit admission that that's true and confront you about it a week later?" Anastasia pressed.

Nathaniel realized where she'd been going with it now. "So you're saying that it's not true?"

Anastasia hesitated. "I know that this isn't even remotely tactful but I _hate_ your father, Nate. I can't quite put into words how deep my hatred of him goes but I even now whenever I close my all I can still see the dead faces of my sister-in-law trying to protect my baby nephew and my perfectly healthy mother insisting on staying at my dying father's side to face death herself. I don't know if I'll ever really get over that. Had I heard that he had been killed in such a manner as you described than I can't say I would be all that put-out. That said, I am not sadistic and I'm no torturer."

"Then what did happen?" Nathaniel demanded. Part of him wanted to defend his father – part of him always would, he supposed – but given what had happened he really couldn't blame her for feeling that way.

"I stabbed him in the stomach the way that he or his men had stabbed my father," Anastasia recounted, her eyes suspiciously shiny. "I watched as he bled out, just like my father. It…it took awhile and every second of it all I could see was my father, knowing he had the same death. He at least had my mother with him but I don't know whether they were found before he died or the circumstances of my mother's death. Your father claimed the last thing my father saw was him forcing my mother to kiss his feet but I don't believe that. She was too much of a fighter and there was nothing left for her to protect so she'd never demean herself in such a manner."

Nathaniel swallowed. That sounded horrible, both for him and for her. "Then where did all the rumors come from?"

Anastasia shrugged. "Where do rumors ever come from? I have heard rumors that Anora was infertile because she wasn't noble enough to be Queen and it was a curse, I've heard that Cailan was an imposter and Maric and Rowan's _real_ child was imprisoned in the basement of the palace – I've checked, by the way, and he's not – I've heard that you were actually the child of Teyrn Loghain, I've heard that Loghain had Maric killed and claimed he was 'lost at sea', I've heard that dwarves hatch from rocks although I'm willing to admit that that rumor may be entirely Oghren's fault, and I've even heard that Leliana was secretly on a bard mission when she helped us end the Blight."

"Rumors usually come from somewhere," Nathaniel pointed out. "What's that expression? There's no smoke without fire?"

Anastasia made a face. "I _hate_ that expression. Sometimes there really is gossip and rumors without any cause for it, like the example I mentioned earlier about you having Anders' love child. In this case, I think the rumor came from the fact that not only was it blatantly obvious that my hatred for your father rivaled my husband's for Loghain but Alistair also refused to leave the room while your father was dying and he'd never seen such a slow death before as he usually put people out of their misery and I was remembering my own father's death so neither of us were in exactly the best shape after it happened. Does that answer your question?"

Nathaniel nodded slowly. "It does."

"And what's the verdict?" Anastasia inquired, her tone deceptively light. "Are you upset that I didn't just slit his throat and be done with it? I know you've already somewhat made your peace with the fact that I killed him at all?"

"I…" Nathaniel trailed off, wondering what he could possible say. "I'm not quite sure. I know that, however you felt, you didn't have a choice but to kill him. I know he gave you damn good cause to hate him. I know that his death could have easily been worse and that he did bring it all upon himself. Just the same – and I honestly cannot believe that I'm about to say this – I think that Oghren was right and I shouldn't have asked about the details. It's one thing to know that you killed my father and it's quite another to be able to imagine you strangling him or decapitating him or stabbing him through the heart or…leaving him to bleed out."

"I understand," Anastasia said quietly.

"I'm not…I'm not _mad_ exactly," Nathaniel told her, struggling to put his feelings into words. "I just wish I hadn't known and I'm going to need some time to process this. I wish it had been quicker, of course, but at the same time I'm relieved it didn't go the way that he said it did. I'm going to need some time."

"Take as much time as you need," Anastasia said earnestly.

Nathaniel nodded and then turned away. He wanted to go see Delilah again. He was sure that she wouldn't like to hear the details of their father's death no matter how much of a monster she thought him at the end but he knew that she'd be a comfort even if he didn't explain why he needed it.

So while this was sure to bother him for awhile, he was actually really glad that they'd had that conversation. The truth might not have been pretty (although it was important to remember that he'd feared worse) but it was always better than wondering and he, besides, he was a Howe and as such he would not run from his reality.

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